Reflections On The Superloo
By: Roy Hare
Number One
Down the street, of a thousand bog-rolls
By the sign, of a swinging chain,
Stood a bloke in agony.
Well, he was in a bit of pain.
He'd searched along the High Street,
Down back alleys too.
Looking for a 'Gentlemens'
As he stood, by a Superloo.
It did not look like a convenience,
All shiny and brand new,
In fact, a lot of people thought,
It spoilt, the gas works view.
As he stood, with legs all crossed.
To a passerby, he cried.
"Where can I find, a W.C?"
"Your'e standing by its side."
"It looks too posh, to be a bog.
Do you take me for a twit."
"Certainly not, my very good sir,
It's a Superloo, the council erected it."
If you do not believe me,
Put a coin in that door.
Then stand back to be amazed
And a little bit more."
The door came open with a swish,
He could not believe his eyes,
As he stood there in a trance.
Something undid his flies.
Before his trousers, hit the floor,
He was plonked down on the seat.
Then the music started,
With a rocking beat.
Evacuating his bowels to music,
A new experience to him,
He was just beginning to enjoy it,
When the lights went dim.
Having never Superlood before,
He never thought, a thing was wrong
Till the bog lid, came crashing down
And hit him with a bong.
It squeezed him down inside the pan
The world, is now a person fewer
He went slowly, through the motions
And finished, in the sewer.
From there, he visited the treatment works,
All strained, and turned to pap.
Be careful, what you have to drink
He may, come through your tap.
Number Two
This is the tale, of Archie Flu,
(One of the Asian Flu's)
Thought he wanted, to have a poo,
Searching the streets, of old Sohoo,
He found, at last, a SUPERLOO.
Into the slot he slid a coin.
The door flew open, with a boing.
A hand came out, grabbed him by the throat,
Another hand stripped off his coat.
His trousers, dropped onto the floor,
He was whisked, through another door.
He heard a whirr, and then a hum,
An enema whizzed, right up his bum.
Sat on the seat, he gave a howl,
His stomach emptied, into the bowl.
He thought that he, would never stop
As he did, his eyes went pop.
His ordeal then, he thought would end.
A hand, on his neck, made him bend.
An icy wind, blew round his willy,
He didn't half feel, a silly Billy.
When he thought, I've had enough,
From the wall, came a powder puff.
Dusted over from head to foot,
It's then he saw, a great big boot.
The boot it caught him, fair and square,
Sent him floating, through the air.
All washed and dried, hair brushed neat,
Found himself, back on the street.
The morale of this tale to you
Be wary of a SUPERLOO
Watch your diet like a hawk
Always carry a great big cork.
